"So, my fellow dukes," addressed the Duke of Jarith, who sat at the head of a long, wooden supper table, "I suppose that you want to know why I brought you all here."

"Yes, Jarith!" started the Duke of Bloxford loudly, "We do! I am sure that this will be a complete waste of our time." he said angrily while taking a bite out of a turkey leg. The supper table was laden with expensive china, silverware, chocolates, and the Jarithian kitchen's best food, all meant to impress the Duke's guests.

"I have called you all here," responded the Duke with an evil-sounding voice, "Because everyone knows that this little group's loyalty to Ruratainia is...questionable.

"I am NOT a traitor!" sreamed the Duke of Richmonia.

"Here, here!" chimed the Duke of Blost.

"Calm down, my good chaps!" the Duke of Jarith forcefully requested, "What do you think about leaving the Ruratainian Union?"

The Duke of Kartinia laughed heartily, "You are a fool, Jarith! If anyone tried to leave, the army will move in and destroy them. Besides, Jarith, why would you leave?

"Simple," replied Jarith with a bored expression, "The federal government takes away 50% of my treasury, crops, and most of all, my right to use my army as I please!"

The Duke of Bloxford spoke again after finishing his fifth turkey leg, "I fully agree, Jarith! It's unfair! I hate handing over half of MY things to that fool, King Orion. If some of my fellow dukes agree, I will leave the Union of Duchies. If we would secede, what would we call ourselves?"

"Ah, we would name ourselves after the noble order of knights that founded most of what is now Ruratainia. We will call ourselves the Confederation of Prasden! I will now ask each of you 12 Dukes if you wish to secede. Starting with you Richmonia. What say you?!"

"All right, I agree, but I still feel uncomfortable with this decision. But my job is to make make the best decision for my people, and I believe that this is it." came the reply.

"Kartinia secedes!" came another reply.

"Blost does not secede! We are not traitors!" screamed the Duke of Blost while storming out of the office.

"Oronsford secedes!"

"Foxborough secedes!"

"Redmonton does not secede!"

"Harrisonburg secedes!"

"Owensford does not secede!" came another angry reply.

"Rarsland secedes!"

"Sevesnia does not leave! Our loyalty to the Crown remains!"

And so it went on, and afterwards a huge ceremony was held to celebrate independance...

"There are two powers in this world, the sword and the pen; and in the end the former is always conquered by the latter"- Napoleon Bonaparte

There were many amongst the party-goers that had the time of their lives. There were long, full tables of meats and cheeses, there were stews and exquisite dishes from the many duchies of the Confederation. Wine and ale were set at the end of one table, and the taps flowed freely for the people. Most did not question the decisions of their masters. But there were some at the feast who stayed sober, who stood with heavy hearts and watched the festivities. "How could so many people be so blind?" they wondered. The Duke of Jarith rose to speak, and people scrambled for their seats at the table. Many were left standing. The dukes of the other rebellious lands sat at a round table just in front of the Duke.

"People of the independent duchies who have so bravely resisted the rule of King Orion!" shouted the Duke.

There was a great deal of cheering and applause from the crowd.

"It is my honor to officially welcome you to this great feast," he said, pausing for effect. "That marks the formation of a new brotherhood, reminiscent of those brave men who first formed our nation. It is my honor now, to present to you the Dukes of the Confederation of Prasden!"

The crowd rose to its feet amid cheers and shouts and applause. The taps flowed again and there was mayhem in the streets. But not everyone took part. Captain Halfnor and his company of men stood in the shadows of the armory, looking out at the chaos that filled the street. He shook his head.

"They do not know it, but they have all sealed their fates," he said sadly. "When the king gets word of this, he will never allow this rebellion to go unpunished."

"Aye, but what can we do?" It was Halfnor's most trusted warrior, a grizzled veteran of many campaigns. "If we attempt to defect to Orion or to one of the loyal duchies, surely they will not believe us and place us in prison as the Duke's spies."

"Your words are true," Halfnor replied. "We cannot return to our brothers until we have proven our wish to defect. We must go to the camp of the rebellious Forestmen."

"8000 for you Forestmen... and 5000 for you Black Falcons", said Major Dawson as he, smiling, signed the order for the 13,000 hand-cannons.

Besides of his signature, those of King Alfred and King Albert soon showed up.

"Well, idd better get to work then", he said as he rose from the chair. "I have most of my hand-guns in western Telemar, so i may take some time for me to get them here. And you won´t have to pay untill you got them all. Goodbye".

He smiled at the other men in the tent, walked out to his coach and was soon on his way westwards.

For the last day, the Norvunda fleet had been crossing the Viking River with an invasion army. Scouting reports had reported Jarith (a Duchy that was on the right coast of Ruratainia) was supposed to be vulnerable to a sea attack. The Norvunda army would soon find out if it was true or not.

The Norvunda warriors now deployed their rowboats to land on the apparently empty beach. 15 boats landed as the first wave and secured the beachead. When another 10 boats landed, a sudden sound rang out. "Hand-cannons!" Svenn thought, " Quick, take cover!" he yelled to his men. Before his order reached all of his men, many had been gunned down, "Quick, who is firing on us?!" he asked one of his men.

"I see...I see...I see..." started the the soldier while looking through his spyglass, "Bloxfordian hand-cannon-armed soldiers, quite a mess of them at that, sir!"

"So," muttered Svenn, "The rumours are true."

"Sir?"

"I heard tell that some of the Bloxfordians grabbed some guns from dead Forestmen. Jarith refuses to use them, the Duke says it is un-gentlemanly, but thats not going to stop the other duchies from using 'em," Svenn responded while drawing his sword, "All right, men! Charge!" A huge wave of Norvunda warriors charged the Bloxfordian fortifications...

"There are two powers in this world, the sword and the pen; and in the end the former is always conquered by the latter"- Napoleon Bonaparte

The battalion of Bloxfordians had hurried to the coast with their stolen hand-cannons when they had first heard of the Norvunda fleet that was on its way. There, they had quickly constructed some earth-breastworks about 300 pieces from the beach. Dawsons hand-cannons were amazing weapons, but they had one major flaw: the loading time. It took long time to load them. At least longer time than it took a mass of angry Norvunda to cross the distance of 300 pieces. But the Bloxfordians, new to using hand-cannons, were not too aware of that. Some of them were wise enough to drop down the hand-cannons when the Norvunda charged at them and pick up swords and spears. But others simply began to try and reload the hand-cannons, suddenly finding themselves defenseless right in front of the about 300 Norvunda who swarmed over the breastworks. Although the Bloxfordians outnumbered their enemy, their left side was almost swept away immediately. More Norvunda were coming up the beach now. Here and there, you could hear the sound of a few hand-cannons, but they were nowhere as effective as the first volley. In the middle of the Bloxfordian army, Svenn spotted a red flag with a black bulls head on it. That of the Duke of Bloxford. And under it, he soon noticed a young man in an expensive-looking set of armor. "I want that man for myself!", he roared, pointing at the young man with the point of his sword. The jarl gathered a dozen men around him, and with whirling swords and axes, they cut a path through the enemy lines.

"You! David of Bloxford! Come and fight!", Svenn belowed.

David, the Duke of Bloxfords oldest son, looked looked around for the person who had challenged him. When his eyes fell on the big Norvunda who looked at him, the colour slowly began to drain from his face. The man was big. Very big. He reminded David of a bear. But, he then thought, it was not only size that counted in a battle. Good swordsmanship was least as important. He pushed his way through his own soldiers until he reached Svenn. The Norvunda let David have the first strike. The dukes son made a sidewards cut, that suddenly swung upwards and turned into an overhead cut. Against many "normal" soldiers, the feint would have had devastating results. But then David realised, this man was no "normal" soldier. He really knew how to use a sword. Svenn imediately swung his shield up to stop the overhead cut, all while he swung his sword sidewards towards his opponent.

"This can´t go on much longer!", shouted one of the other Bloxford commanders. "We can´t afford to loose too many men here!"

One part of David told him that he should stay and fight this Norvunda. Another part told him that these men were his responsibilyty. he couldn´t just throw their lives away. The last part won.

"Sound the retreat!", he shouted to the other commander. The man took forth a horn and blowed two deep notes on it. Slowly, the Bloxfordians began to retreat. Then, soon, they all ran for their lives, with the Norvunda storming after them. On the hill in the middle of the breastworks, the bullflag was taken down, and soon, a black raven on a blue background folded out its wings over the beach.

The Norvunda army was on the move again. Little did they know that a large force of Bloxfordian and Jarithian troops awaited them.

Svenn looked around with a spyglass, "Uh-uh, uh-uh..." he muttered, "Nothing there, nothing there...Woah! Men, prepare for battle! Bloxfordian and Jarithian troops incoming!" Buy now, a large force of Jarithian knights were charging out of the forest and smashing into Svenn's men. Svenn took his sword out of his sheath and led his men into battle.

Just then, he saw David of Bloxford holding the Bloxfordian banner once again. Once more, he rushed and tackled him. With a violent kick, David knocked him to the ground, to which Jarl responded by chucking a throwing dagger at David's arm; it bounced off his metal shoulder plate. For a full 10 minutes, they fought to a stalemate, then, David knocked him to the ground. Twirling his broadsword, Jarl readied himself for his deathblow, to which he could nothing to stop.

Jarl Svenn, great warrior, loyal friend, and dangerous foe, was dead. His men, angered by his untimely death, charged with renewed strength, and wiped out the Confederation forces. During the end of the battle, David of Bloxford escaped from the Norvunda, and went to the nearest Prasden camp...

"There are two powers in this world, the sword and the pen; and in the end the former is always conquered by the latter"- Napoleon Bonaparte

"Go to the... Forestmen and Germanesques camp... find Eiran... Hakonson. May the gods be with you".

Those were Svenn Itursons last words, said to his second in command. And so, after burning their leader and the other fallen on a large pyre, as was their tradition, the Norvunda moved on to their allies camp. They arrived the next day, when the whole camp was packing down. A large Confederate army was moving towards them, and the rebel commanders had decided to make their stand at Greenwillow River, a large river that ran through the countryside like a large, blue snake. At the eastern side of the river, tall, impassable mountains towored up over a narrow pass. The arrival of 2500 Norvunda was a welcome sight in the camp. They were imediately put under the command of Eiran. The following day, the army was on the move. Small groups scouted ahead of the army, and one of them reported (led by Elwyn, who had showed to be an excelent tracker and scout) four regiments of Prasdens hurrieng towards the pass at Greenwillow River, planning to stop the rebel army there. And apparently, their leader appeared to be David of Bloxford.

"Idd love to get into axe-range of that little nuisance", was Eirans reply when he was asked to lead a few regiments forwards to reach the pass before the Bloxfordians.And so, 200 Norvundas and 100 Black Falcons with hand-cannons were soon on their way to Greenwillow River. Travelling as long as the road could be seen, and without the trouble of organising a large army, they quickly got close to the river. They reached it after 2 days of travelling, and set up camp there. The following day, scouts saw the Prasdens a few hours away from the river.

"We´ll set our position here! And those stinking Prasdens will have to cut us all down to get through!", Eiran shouted to his men.He was answered with a roar of agreement from them all.He looked over to the other side of the river. There, about 150 pieces from the road, he had hid 100 of his Norvunda warriors. At his signal, they would ambush the Bloxfordians as they moved across the river.They didnt get to wait for long. The sound of armed men marching through the forest soon reached the defender´s ears. And there, right in front of them, 400 Bloxfordians appeared.

"No handcannons this time", Eiran mumbled to himself.

Their own hand-cannons were loaded and ready, but hid from the sight of the Bloxfordians. That would be a nasty surprise. the Confederate soldiers began froming into battle formation over there. In front of them, about 40 armoured knights were froming up a wedge formation, preparing to charge against the enemy. Then, at a sign from David, the knights began trotting forwards, slowly shifting into a canter. Galloping forwards like that, they had no chance to avoid the deadly fire of the hand-cannons.

"First line! Shoot!", shouted Eiran, and half of the Germanesque fired their hand-cannons. The booming sound of the firearms alone was enough to scare the horses. Many of them began to turn away from that horrible noise. And then the ammunition hid its target. Almost half of the knights fell of their horses, dead or wounded. And at least as bad, the charge had lost all its power, and the remaining knights soon found themselves ind hand to hand combat with the fierce Norvundas. They quickly retreated. Now, David sounded for his infantry to move over the crossing on the river and attack.

"Not yet... not yet... now!". At Eirans command, the other half of the Black Falcons fired their hand-cannons, greatly decimating the Bloxfordians frontlines. The two groups soon clashed together, and cries, roars and the sound of steel on steel soon filled the air over Greenwillow River. And suddenly, one deep note on a horn went through the air, followed by a roaring "Nei Gjarahau!" as the 100 Norvundas in the forest charged at the Prasdens.

In the middle of the Bloxofordian army, Eiran now found David of Bloxford. With a deep roar, the Norvunda stormed towards the Confederate commander. David, once again standing under his fathers bulls head was an experienced soldier who knew a defeat when he saw one. And, he had to admit, he was standing in the middle of one right now. And then his eyes fell on a large man storming through the Prasdens lines, whirling a giant battleaxe like if it had been a toy. And now the man was staring straight at David. It was a look full of rage and hatred. This man had gone berserk. He would kill anyone without hessitating. And his full focus was on David.The Norvunda said nothing, just kept slaughtering one Confederate soldier after another, until he finally reached the Bloxfordian commander. Eiran had lots of wounds all over him, and for a moment, David felt a little hope that the man was too weakened to put up a real fight. Then he looked at his opponents eyes, and the hope disappeard. This man would kill him, even at the cost of his own life. With a deep roar, Eiran swung his battleaxe in a series of strikes on the other man, who could do nothing but panically parry the attacks. But they were getting weaker and weaker, and David began hoping for a victory again. But then, he suddenly found himself sprawled on the ground, his shiled lying in shattered pieces besides him. An arrow hit Eiran in his shoulder, but he even bother to look a it.

"Nei Gjarahau! For Svenn Iturson!", Eiran belowed as his axe went down into Davids belly. Normally, Eiran would have shown respect for a worthy opponent and given him a quick death. But this was not a normal day. His friend had been killed by this man, and even because he had travelled across the Viking Sea to help Eiran. David of Bloxford was going to have a slow, painfull death. With the death of their leader, more and more Bloxfordians could not see the reason to stay, and the battle at Greenwillow River was soon over, with barely 100-150 surviving Prasdens left to stumble away. The pass had been secured, Svenn Iturson had been revenged, and some hundred Confederates were never going to see the sun rise again. All in all, a good day, Eiran thought.

This post is out of chronological order; it takes place right after the huge battle at Stonebarrow.

Elwyn awoke in a tent, feeling sore all over. Trying to roll over and get up, he groaned. Never before on his life, even when plowing a field all day, had he felt more tired then now. He didn’t know how he got here; yesterday, he was going to plow the bottom forty with his dad; then he remembered. The soldiers, the house burning, the battle, that last, desperate stand on the hill. “How did I get here?” he wondered. Suddenly, he noticed what had woken him. Someone was pounding a sword on shield outside his tent, trying to wake him up. “I’m awake!” Elwyn shouted. “What do you want?” “Sir, Commander Hawkins whishes to see you in his pavilion,” said the voice. “Tell him I’ll be right there,” said Elwyn. He was irritated that he had been waked, but interested in the reason why. “I’ve been instructed to wait for you, and escort you to the commander’s tent. As soon as you’re ready, sir.” Elwyn groaned. “Formalities,” he mumbled under his breath, getting his pants on. “As pap always said, they’re nothing but a bunch of pointless words.” Fully dressed, Elwyn left the tent; the guard was dutifully waiting for him. “Right this way sir,” the guard said. “It was one of Hawkins’s first requests upon waking this morning—he must see something special in you.” Elwyn was barely even listening to the guard. Instead, he was examining the wonders of camp life. All around him, people were stirring, horses groomed, fires started, and food cooked. A kaleidoscope of scents and aromas greeted his nose; the smell of roasted meat, stew, straw, and, yes, of waste. Who ever knew that so many aromas could be in one place! Elwyn was fascinated by it all—but clearly, his guard wasn’t. He continued to babble on and on; Elwyn wasn’t even listening to him now. Elwyn was soon relieved, however; for in moments, the sight of Commander Hawkins’s pavilion greeted his eyes. “Well, here you go sir,” said the guard. “By the way, my name’s Durd.” “Pleased to meet you, and thank you for escorting me here,” said Elwyn. “Hey, no problem,” said the guard. “I was glad to help.” With one last wave to his chattering escort, Elwyn lifted the flap of the tent, and went inside. The tent was dark, but full of activity. Servants rushed back and forth, and there were charts, books, and maps spread everywhere. “Ah, Elwyn—Just the man I wanted to see!” said Hawkins, shaking Elwyn’s hand. “Sit down, sit down.” Hawkins motioned to a table in the corner, away from the hustle-and-bustle of the tent. Taking a seat, Hawkins said, “I don’t thing I’ve thanked you for your help yesterday. You were invaluable, and of a great service to your country. Tell me, where do you come from?” Elwyn was uncomfortable; after all, Commander Hawkins was a great and mighty general, and he was just a poor farm boy. However, the commander seemed generally interested in him, so Elwyn replied. “I am actually from Ruratania,” he said. “My father was killed by a Ruratanian soldier, and our house burned down. His last words told me to find the Forestmen.” “Well, you’ve succeeded,” said Hawkins. “You are now in the heart of Forestmen country. Last night we had to leave the scene of the battle, and fast; so we set off to where King Alfred was camped. You probably don’t remember, but we put into a wagon, and slept like a rock; man of the men did. Our tents were already set up here, and it was no problem to find one for you; there were many tents left empty, after the battle.” Hawkins began tear up a little, but he merely wiped them away. “Anyways,” he said, power returning to his voice, “I wanted to ask something of you. How would you like to be my orderly? You would learn all of the tricks and trades of war, deliver messages for me, and fight if need be. What say you?” “Commander Hawkins, I am touched by your offer,” said Elwyn. “However, every since my father was killed by Ruratanians, and my home burned by Jarithian soldiers, and I myself was nearly killed by Jarithian soldiers, I want to be at the front lines, doing everything I can to defeat the Duke of Jarith’s forces. Perhaps, under different circumstances, I would readily accept your offer, but I want to inflict revenge against the Duke of Jarith, and that’s simply not something I can do from behind the lines.” “I understand,” said Hawkins. “But before you leave, let me give you a letter of recommendation into Robin IX’s personal forces. I think you possess great talent, and would fit well with that group. Besides, Robin is always at the tip of the spear, and it sounds to me that that is exactly what you want. It will take me a few minutes; feel free to have a look around the tent, but try to stay out of the way.” Elwyn walked about the tent, gazing at all of the paraphernalia that littered any table, floor, or wall. “War is more complicated then I thought,” Elwyn said to himself. He continued to investigate, but in a few minutes, Hawkins called him back. “Here you are,” Hawkins said, lifting the flap of the tent for Elwyn. “Now, King Alfred’s pavilion is where you will find Robin. It is up that trail over there, and through the trees; that is where Alfred’s army is camped. The king’s pavilion will be the center of the camp; it is bigger than mine; you can’t miss it.” “How can I ever repay you, sir?” Elwyn asked. He was deeply touched by all the Commander was doing for him; clearly, this man cared for his soldiers. “How can you repay me? Why, be a good soldier for Robin, and kill every Jarithian soldier you can!” Hawkins let the tent flap fall; Elwyn was on his own now. Clutching his letter of recommendation, he set off for the king’s pavilion.

Here comes the orator! With his flood of words,And his drop of reason.- Ben Franklin

This post is in chronilogical order with the last one about the Norvunda.

The king of Ruratainia sat on his throne. “Confound them!” he said. Tall, wide in the shoulders, and with a large, black mustache, the king of Ruratainia was an imposing figure. “How could they? First, Jarith gets us into a war with the Forestmen; now the Wolfpack and Germanesque are getting involved; that reduces our cushion against Benito, who’s been growing crazy lately. Now, half of my dukes are separating from the kingdom—we shall be demolished! I cannot just let them separate; that would result in disaster. Once they are overtaken, I would be held accountable, since I just let them go. Then, of course, every nation would want a share of the spoils, and the empire of Ruratainia would shrink yet again. If I engage in an all-out fight against them, some other nation will bite me in the back, since I would be leaving my backdoor open. What to do, what to do?” The king stopped, and looked at the aces in the throne-room. Everyone was shocked; they have never seen their king like this before. He was truly ‘royally’ angry, and looked like he could tear down the very castle he was living in. “I shall attempt to make friends with the Forestmen,” said the king. “That way, I can get them to do the dirty work for me, attacking the confederation, that is, and I can still have enough men to fend off an attack. Maybe I can even get one other nation to join me, although I don’t have a clue who that would be—my situation looks pretty hopeless.” “Sounds like a fine plan, m’lord,” said one of the king’s archdukes, Lord Farhöven. “The rebels won’t even see what’s coming.” “I agree,” said Sir Windsor, one of the king’s knights. “That sounds like as sound a strategy as the rest of them.” “Well, gentlemen,” said the king. “We can not execute this plan by simply lying around. Archduke Grassover, prepare your duchy’s armies to march south, against the rebels. Grûven! Get your diplomats together; we must send a message of peace to the Forestmen.” The king continued to give orders, and one by one the throne-room emptied; Ruratainia was back in action.

Here comes the orator! With his flood of words,And his drop of reason.- Ben Franklin

"Captain Halfnor with 60 soldiers! We come here with peace, i wish to see Robin IX"

"What do you want him?", was the answer. Incredible how stubborn all sentries appeared to be, Halfnor thought. But on the other side, 60 armed men suddenly shoving up WAS actually a matter that required some stubborn investigation.

"I come with important knews! Seven of the Ruratainian duchies have seperated from our country!". Half a second too late, Captain Halfnor tried to stop his mistake.

"Our country, you say? So your one of those stinkin Ruratainians, eh?". The tone in the sentrys voice had changed from interrested to straight out hostile.

"Do you not understand anything at all?, shouted Halfnor. "Seven of the duchies have sepperated from Ruratainia, forming some sort of Prasden Confederation! Its them youre fighting, not Ruratainia!".

"Yes! Do that! A dead sentry will indeed convince Robin that we tell the truth!", Halfnor shouted.

"Well, what is this important peice of news?". That was a new voice in the conversation. They all turned towards it.

"And who may you be?", asked Halfnor, a very bored tone in his voice.

"Colonel Lackfert of the Forestmen. Now, what do you want to tell the prince?"

"Let me tell him it myself...", Captain Halfnor said.

"Well yes, of course. Weapons, please!"

Halfnor handed over his sword, dagger and spear, and Lackfert led him to Robins tent.

"This man calling himself Captain Halfnor wishes to see Robin IX, says he brings important news". Those words from Lackfert were enough for the guards at the tent to step aside. The two men went into the tent. There, Robin and his father were looking at a map on the table. Robin looked up.

"Well, say whatever it is you want to say", he said.

"My lord, The Duke of Jarith and six other duchies have seperated from Ruratainia, forming something they call the Confederation of Prasden and..."

"Oh really!" yelled Robin rudely, "Where were you when my ragged army almost got destroyed at Barrowstone?! Where the Gods were you when my people were starving?! Where were you when-"

"Robin, please!" interrupted his father, "Why would you like to be friends with us? We are not even a recognized country, duchy, city, or even a town."

"Well, to be frank with you," said the Captain, "Things look very grim on our border with Normendy, Orion will take any friends he can get, and we have have a mutual hatred of Prasden."

"Well, I will sign a treaty with you, Captain, if your country agrees to officially recognize the Kingdom of the Forestmen. I will not accept any thing less. Another thing I demand of you, is that any weapons or supplies we might need, we could count on you to provide. AND, you would not think of us as a puppet state. We are wholly independent. Wha say you, Captain?"

"Hmm..." the Captain thought it over, and then gave his answer: 'I say...

"There are two powers in this world, the sword and the pen; and in the end the former is always conquered by the latter"- Napoleon Bonaparte

no--at least for the moment. I do not want to make any negotiations without consulting King Orion. If you will have me as your guest, I will send a carrier pigeon to my king, asking him what he thinks of your terms. I do believe he will agree, but I wish to consult him first. What say you to that?"

"I agree," said King Alfred. "We have a tent for you--many have been left empty after our fight with Ruratainia. Colonel Lackfert will escort you to your tent."

Halfnor bowed and left, with Lackfert guiding him. The king turned and motioned to Robin to follow him outside.

"What is it?" Robin asked. "I hope you're not going to budge."

"No, I shall not," said the king. "It's time you learned the nature of Diplomacy. If you're going to rule as king someday, you'll have to know this. These things usually take time; I gaurentee you that Halfnor will write to his king, and his king will write back, demanding we take away a few of our conditions. I will say no, and King Orion, desperate as he is, will write back, accepting nearly all of them. He and I will write back and forth, and if you're good, all of our conditions will be accepted. Meanwhile, the war will drag on, and we must be careful to wrap things up until it's too late."

"Yes," said Alfred. "This war is wearing me out; I fear I may not live to see the end of it, and that if I do, I shall be in no condition to rule. But I have no fear; I know you will do a fine job in my place."

Elwyn looked closely at every little bit of the bushes and trees around the clearing. Apparently, nobody laid hiding there. He then looked down at the Jarithian camp in the clearing. The about 800 soldiers acted like if they had nothing to fear. And, well, they actually didn´t. Except for Elwyn and his 20 light cavalrymen...There would be barely an hour ´til sunset. And then, Elwyn thought with a smile, some supplywagons and tents would sort of... disappear. But first, they would have to send word back to the rebel army that 800 enemies were so close to the camp.

"Hurry back to the camp and tell them about this threat. Meanwhile, we others will try to make the life as horrible as possible for those Prasdens down there", whispered Elwyn to one of his men.In the start, the scouts had been reluctant to let a person as young as Elwyn give them orders, but when he had given them a little demonstration of his skills (one of his troops had deserted when he had first seen his new commander. Elwyn had personally tracked him down, knocked him out and dragged him after his horse all the way back to the camp), they began respecting him more and more. And so, the man imediately hurried back to his horse, mounted, and was soon on his way.

"Well, now we just have to wait for sunset", said Elwyn to the remaining scouts.

As the light began to fade into dusk, Elwyn's scouts began to rouse themselves from their places in the brush in which they had been hiding. Those who did not stir were shaken roughly by their comrades.

"Up men," said Elwyn. "'Tis almost time now."

The men, anxious to launch their swift, silent raid on the enemy camp, waited eagerly behind trees and bushes, checking their supplies of arrows and quietly sharpening their daggers. Elwyn, though still calm and composed as always, knew the gravity of this raid. His reputation as commander of the scouts hung in the balance, and maybe the fate of many of the rebels. With a Jarithian fighting force this close to the rebel encampment, many lives could be lost if the enemy decided to launch a surprise attack. Elwyn was going to make sure that didn't happen.

"Gelbron," he murmured.

"Yes, sir!" came the immediate reply.

"Bring the pack horses up to the front here."

"Yes, sir!" replied the willing soldier, and he led three large horses to Elwyn. The commander opened up the animals' saddlebags and removed a small corked container. He opened it, checked the contents, and grinned. The pitch had not been harmed on their journey here.

This post follows the path of Elwyn, after he left the pavillion There was none of what you could call roads leading to the king’s pavillion—just dirt trails that winded around the contour of the land. Elwyn took his time, enjoying the beautiful sunrise that graced the sky. The boughs of the green forest canopy kept him cool on his walk. He passed several tents on the way; as he got closer to the pavillion, the numbers seemed to decrease, until he crested a small ridge and saw the pavillion, nestled in a small clearing. There were guards standing next to the door—a real door, not just a flap of fabric. Guards also paced the perimeter of the pavillion; all in all, it was a very secure place. Taking in a deep breath, he approached the guards stationed at the door.

Here comes the orator! With his flood of words,And his drop of reason.- Ben Franklin